


Memory #0003

by softseoksoons



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artificial Intelligence, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Artificial Intelligence, Domestic, M/M, Science Fiction, loosely based off my holo love, platonic xiaomark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softseoksoons/pseuds/softseoksoons
Summary: Vision Systems.Intelligence Unit Alpha I.Name: Xiaojun.Daily Reboot: Successful.
Relationships: Mark Lee & Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34
Collections: Challenge #4 — Awaken The World





	Memory #0003

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first time joining alw and I'm so happy to be a participant!
> 
> I already tagged this but I just want to say it again that this is platonic xiaomark! just wanted to make sure you're aware before reading.
> 
> disclaimer I suck at writing sci-fi so sorry for that. there are also a lot of stylistic choices I made that I hope you can understand why I wrote it the way I did.
> 
> enjoy!

  
  


_5:01 pm_

A dark screen. Blank, save for the crinkling of color as the screen powers itself up, flittering images coming into view one by one as its surroundings are processed and cataloged.

_Vision Systems._

_Intelligence Unit Alpha I._

_Name: Xiaojun._

_Daily Reboot: Successful._

Xiaojun turns his head 45 degrees to the left and then to the right, analyzing the lines of what he sees before him.

The living room is as pristine as ever, not a speck of dust to be seen on any piece of furniture, all thanks to his new house cleaning program.

Sunlight is shining through the window next to him at the perfect 30 degrees, its rays hitting the line of small succulent plants Xiaojun had expertly placed on the windowsill in order for them to receive the most optimal sunlight.

The clock hanging above the fireplace ticks rhythmically, its hands thin and black as they move slowly through the numbers.

_5:02 pm_

The front door clicks, and when Xiaojun faces the entrance a figure walks through the threshold of the house, his head hung low and shoulders tensed up.

Xiaojun's eye scanner waves its invisible blue light over the figure and he waits for a flash of green in his memory receptor before a programmed smile settles on his lips.

"Good Afternoon, Director."

The director turns his head, taking in the form of Xiaojun standing in the corner of his living room, still and awaiting, like any Intelligence Unit should be. A warm smile of his own stretches across his lips and he stands up straight, closing the front door behind him.

"I told you to call me Mark, Dejun."

Xiaojun shakes his head, the gesture miniscule and clean. "You know I cannot do that, Director."

The director chuckles, leaning down to carefully slip off his shoes. Once finished, he stands once more and fully enters the living room, nearing Xiaojun.

“Any mail for me?”

Xiaojun’s storage slot skirts in front of his screen, and he scans the mail inbox for any unread messages. Several lines of blue fall down the screen, their subject lines enlarging themselves for Xiaojun to skim through.

“You have one message from the Head of Agriculture, asking you when you are available for a meeting to discuss the latest census data. Shall I schedule one for you?”

The director settles down into the genuine leather armchair adjacent to the sitting couch, his body facing Xiaojun.

“Am I free this weekend?”

In a nanosecond Xiaojun pulls up the schedule he kept for the director, catalogued based on importance. He glances across the next few days, committing the daily itineraries to his coded memory.

“You have your community service hours scheduled for this Saturday, but your Sunday is currently free.”

“Then invite Doyoung over for lunch on Sunday. Tell him we can discuss the report then.”

“Yes, Director.” Xiaojun easily writes in the event into the calendar, swiping the calendar away from his main screen and maximizing the mail inbox once more.

“You also have several messages from your subordinates submitting the pieces to their research projects or asking for extensions. Shall I transfer those to your laptop so you can reply to them personally?”

“Sounds good, Dejun,” The director says, before standing up and giving him a small salute. “I’ll be in my room working the rest of the night so that is all.”

Xiaojun transfers the several emails to the director’s personal laptop before swiping the inbox away, his main screen clear once more as he stares at the director.

“Shall I order you dinner? You have not been grocery shopping in eight days, Director.”

The director lets out another chuckle. Xiaojun stares, unmoving, awaiting an answer.

“That would be nice, actually,” The director says, “You know my favorite.”

And with that, he turns and treks up the stairs towards his personal office at the end of the second floor hallway.

Xiaojun says nothing, only sets down an order for delivery from _LW Steak House._

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


“Good Morning Xiaojun.”

Xiaojun swipes away the screen he had in front of him showcasing his weekly status report. He turns his head and his eyes lay upon a man standing casually in the living room, glass of wine in his hand. His scanners flit over the man’s body, and his memory receptor supplies him with a profile of the man’s identity on the side of his main screen.

“Good Morning, Mr. Kim.”

Mr. Kim gives him a nod before taking a seat on the couch, crossing one leg over the other.

“How’s Mark been?” Mr. Kim asks, swirling the wine in his glass, one hand loosely draped over the armrest.

Xiaojun quickly pulls up the medical records for the director, pinning the daily vitals to the center of his main screen.

“His vitals have been normal this week. The only point of concern is his blood sugar, which has been seeing a growing decrease over the last 14 days.”

“Xiaojun.”

Xiaojun switches his main screen to his retinas, looking at Mr Kim. “Yes, Mr. Kim?”

“I am not Mark’s doctor. I’m asking you how he’s _been_ , not for his blood levels.”

Xiaojun blinks, not being able to process Mr. Kim’s request into a proper response. “I’m afraid I do not understand what you mean. Would you like me to inform you about the director’s daily emotional survey?”

Mr. Kim quickly shakes his head, a low chuckle leaving his lips. Xiaojun blankly stares as he tries to differentiate between this chuckle and the one the director sends him frequently. He didn’t have a program for that, however, and couldn’t properly discern the difference even if he tried.

“Nevermind, Xiaojun, it’s alright.”

Xiaojun aims to please, but as per command closes out of the medical records, leaving his main screen blank.

He hears footsteps from the kitchen, and directs his attention to the director, who comes walking into the room with his own glass of wine.

“Were you two talking?” The director asks Mr. Kim, who gives him a small nod while sipping from his glass.

“Just having a little chat,” Mr. Kim replies, unfolding his legs and setting the wine glass on the table. “You know Mark, I still don’t know why you insist on keeping him around. He must be the only _Alpha I_ unit left in the entire world.”

The director huffs, also setting down his glass. “We’ve talked about this, Doyoung. So Dejun’s hardware is a little outdated. I can easily update it whenever I need to, so it’s no point of concern. He functions just as well as the latest _Omega X_ unit, dare I say even better.”

Mr. Kim puts his hands up, palms facing outwards as he shakes his head. “I mean no ill intentions towards Xiaojun, nor was I questioning his performance. I was only curious, is all. You’re quite attached to him.”

A silence falls over the two, and Xiaojun watches as the director’s gaze moves to him. He stands still, as he always does, awaiting a request.

“He’s my first ever prototype. My first ever _friend_.”

Xiaojun blinks, watching as the director moves his gaze away from him and back to Mr. Kim. Mr. Kim places a hand over Mark’s hand where it rests in his lap.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

The director shakes his head, smiling at Mr. Kim. “Don’t be, it’s alright. We’re here to talk about your census data, not my attachment to my tinkering projects.”

Mr. Kim snorts, reaching for his wine glass. “It’s Sunday, Mark. As much of the workaholic that you are, even you need a break from time to time.”

“Are you really going to lecture me about being a workaholic, Doyoung?” The director laughs, grabbing his own wine glass. “Need I remind you of who had to physically pry you away from your desk, lest you almost chained yourself to it?”

“Haha, I get it, I used to be worse than you. That only means you should be more careful, or else you’ll end up like I did. Xiaojun tells me your blood sugar is low? Are you skipping meals?”

Xiaojun perks up at the question. “The director has been foregoing a proper dinner frequently, as well as not having breakfast all together on most days.”

The director turns to him with wide eyes, shoulders tensing up. “Dejun.”

Mr. Kim gasps, looking between Xiaojun and the director. “ _Mark_. I know for a fact you spend the entirety of your lunch breaks holed up in your office with nothing more than an apple for a snack. What are you thinking?”

The director hangs his head. “Sorry,” He mumbles out.

Mr. Kim sighs, squeezing the director’s shoulder. “I worry for you. You are taking the day off from work tomorrow and I’m having Yuta come over to give you a check up and cook you a _proper_ meal, you understand?”

“Not like I have a choice, now do I?”

Mr. Kim tuts. “Of course you don’t.”

The director laughs, picking his head up again. “Okay, it’ll be nice to see the other Mr. Kim again. It’s been way too long.”

“He misses you dearly, and will be excited to come over, seeing as he couldn’t join us today.”

The director nods. “Dejun.”

“Yes, Director,” Xiaojun calls out.

“Clear my schedule for tomorrow.”

“Yes, Director.”

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


“You are practically skin and bones Mark.”

“Yuta, please, it is not all that bad.”

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice, Xiaojun picks his head up and turns on his main screen. Turning his head 45 degrees to the right, he takes in the man standing in the doorway to the house. His eye scanner passes over the figure, until it concludes his identity as Mr. Kim-Nakamoto Yuta, Head of Technology.

“Mr. Kim-Nakamoto, sir.” He says, bowing his head slightly in greeting.

“Xiaojun, please, just Yuta,” Mr. Kim-Nakamoto says, striding into the living room with practiced ease as though he visits frequently, and not twice a year or less.

“That would be impolite of me, sir,” Xiaojun says.

Mr. Kim-Nakamoto waves his hand and sits down on the couch, leaning his back against the cushions. “Same as ever I see. I hope you’re keeping Mark good company.”

“I am always functioning at my highest levels, so that I can best serve the director,” Xiaojun says, his response automatic to any questions about his performance.

“I’ll just take that as a yes,” Mr. Kim-Nakamoto says, turning his head to look at the director, who had gone into the kitchen before now returning. “Xiaojun never added that last part before has he?”

The director sits down with two glasses of water in his hands. “What do you mean?”

“When asked about its performance, an Intelligence Unit’s response is always along the lines of _my functions are always working at their highest capacity_. I’ve never heard one tack on something about serving their owner.”

The director’s shoulders move up and down in a fluid motion as he takes a sip from his water. “I’ve been trying to lessen the… formalities in his program.”

A small sigh leaves Mr. Kim-Nakamoto’s lips. “Mark.”

“Yuta, please. I don’t need more pity. I got enough of that from Doyoung yesterday.”

A beat of silence falls over the room as Xiaojun watches the two men sit still. 

“Okay,” Mr. Kim-Nakamoto says eventually, “I won’t say anything else. I just hope you know you're not alone anymore. Xiaojun isn’t the only one protecting you, you don’t need to cling to him. He can only provide you with so much.”

“I know,” The director whispers, “more than anyone else.”

Xiaojun only stands still, as always.

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


Mr. Kim-Nakamoto leaves after sending Xiaojun an enthusiastic wave and promises of returning soon with “Dons”.

The director still lingers in the living room, eyes looking around the space.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today, Director?” Xiaojun asks.

The director looks to him and smiles, shaking his head slightly. “No, that is all Dejun. I was just spacing out.”

“Okay,” Xiaojun says, waiting for the director to leave the room so that he can shut down his systems for the night.

When he doesn’t leave, Xiaojun blinks. “Are you sure there isn’t something I can help you with?”

The director shakes his head once more. “I’m just going to be in here for a little longer before heading to bed. Feel free to go to sleep.”

Xiaojun’s programs don’t allow him to completely shut off while the director is still in the room, so he turns off his main screen, but keeps his auditory sensors on.

He hears shuffling, and assumes the director has retreated to his bedroom, but then his sensors detect a voice close by and hushed.

“I know Doyoung and Yuta mean well, but they just don’t understand. They don’t understand how much I had to go through just to see you completed. Even after all these years, you’re still my Dejun. You were my Dejun when you were still just lines of code on my near broken computer, and you’ll still be my Dejun after the world decides they don’t want such bulky Intelligence Units anymore.”

Xiaojun says nothing, his screens staying dark as he listens to the director’s quiet voice.

“You’re my only friend, and I never want to lose you. I know you’ve forgotten me, but you promised you would always stay by my side. Please, don’t leave me Dejun.”

Something written deep in Xiaojun’s code activates, and all of his systems are booted up and his main screen is turned on, his eyes looking straight into the director’s.

“I won’t.”

The director’s eyes widen as he takes a step back.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I won’t leave you,” Xiaojun repeats, eyes not leaving the director’s. “June 16th, 2050. Memory #0003.”

“What?” The director asks. “Project visuals of Memory #0003.”

Xiaojun’s memory storage sorts out the memory, and he projects a hologram in the shape of a computer screen five feet in front of him, letting the recorded memory play.

_“Recording diary, June 16th, 2050. This is the test #50 of advanced conversation between my AI and me. Gosh, I really hope this works. Dejun, can you hear me?”_

_“Yes Mark.”_

_“Oh my gosh okay okay. What is your name?”_

_“Intelligence Unit Alpha I.”_

_“No, Dejun. Your_ name _.”_

_“Dejun.”_

_“There you go. What is your purpose?”_

_“To provide assistance and bring comfort to whoever needs it.”_

_“Who’s your best friend?”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“It’s me, Mark! I’m your best friend. Come on Dejun we said this before. I’m your best friend and you’re mine. Okay, again, who’s your best friend?”_

_“You.”_

_“Perfect! You did so well Dejun. You’re almost ready to pitch to the world. I just know they’ll love you as much as I do.”_

_“What is love?”_

_“Love… love is like always being there for each other, despite the hardships you both may face, even if it isn’t physically. Knowing there is someone who cares for you as much as you care for them is love. Love makes you want them to never leave.”_

_“I will never leave you.”_

_“Pfft, is that a promise?”_

_“I promise.”_

Xiaojun’s project screen falters before completely turning black, and he returns to his main screen, eyes now meeting the director’s once more. 

He notices a slight shine to the director’s eyes, and a trail of wetness falling down his cheeks.

“I hadn’t programmed in your knowledge of human emotions yet. You weren’t supposed to understand what a promise meant,” The director says softly, breath hitching. “Yet something about the look in your eyes, made me foolishly believe you. For a second, I thought you were real, that you were actually making me a real promise.”

“I do not have the ability to lie. The promise I made was real, and one I intend to keep.”

The director lets out a breathless laugh, pupils shaking as he stares back at Xiaojun. 

“How can I be sure?” The director whispers, and Xiaojun falters for a moment, not knowing what a proper response would be.

It isn’t in his programming to know how to answer such a question, but looking at the director now has the innermost lines of his coding wanting to scream romantic nonsense as though a feeble human would.

“You can’t,” Xiaojun says, surprising even himself with such a fickle answer. “But I will never leave you, and I never want you to leave me.”

The director’s eyes pool with tears, and Xiaojun watches as they fall over the brim of his eyes without him blinking. 

If Xiaojun was human, perhaps he would be crying as well.

“Thank you, Dejun.”

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


_5:02 pm_

A dark screen. Black, save for the crinkling of color as the screen powers itself up, flittering images coming into view one by one as its surroundings are processed and cataloged.

_Vision Systems._

_Intelligence Unit Alpha I._

_Name: Xiaojun._

_Daily Reboot: Successful._

Xiaojun turns his head 45 degrees to the left and then to the right, taking in his surroundings.

The living room is as pristine as ever, not a speck of dust to be seen on any piece of furniture. The only thing that is out of place is the several stack of papers littered across the coffee table.

Afternoon sunlight is shining through the window next to him at the perfect 30 degrees, its rays warming the row of herbs that sit on the windowsill that have replaced the succulents from before.

The clock hanging above the fireplace ticks rhythmically, its hands thin and black as they move slowly through the numbers.

_5:03 pm_

The front door clicks, and when Xiaojun faces the entrance, a figure walks through the threshold of the house, his head high and a bright smile on his lips.

Xiaojun doesn’t activate his eye scanner, and instead beams with a bright smile of his own.

"Good Afternoon, Mark."

Mark’s eyes crinkle as he looks at Xiaojun.

“Hey Dejun.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you again to the mods of alw for this fest! it was such a pleasure to participate.
> 
> edit: ahh reveals are here! again i had so much fun joining especially since this was my first round! i hole you all liked my lil xiaomark <3
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/doyuberry)


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